Britney's legacy is still giving

Loobens and Socrates, both 5, held a whispered conversation in their bunk beds.

"Loobens, I'm a blan," Socrates said.

Loobens laughed at the term for non-Haitian. "No you're not, " he replied. "You're Haitian."

"Think about it," Socrates responded. "We live in a nice new house, we sleep in our own bed, we have food. We go to school and have new clothes. And I don't get beat up everyday."

Loobens and Socrates, orphans in one of the poorest countries on the planet, are among the luckiest children in Haiti. They are living at the Be Like Brit orphanage in Grand Goave, founded and operated with extraordinary devotion by Len and Cherylann Gengel, who travel from here to Haiti once a month to oversee the legacy of their late daughter.

By now, we all know the heartbreaking story of how 19-year-old Britney Gengel of Rutland died in the 2010 Haiti earthquake while on a service trip through her college. We remember the text message she sent to her mother three hours before the quake, saying she wanted to start an orphanage there.

Today, the 19,000-square-foot building houses 35 children and hopes to increase that number to 66 next year. It employs 47. The facility never closes, and the Gengels never slow down.

Last week, despite their daunting responsibilities, they attended a fundraiser for pancreatic cancer. The night before, Len had served as a celebrity wine pourer for a Girls Inc. fundraiser. I asked how they find the time; they said the community has been good to the orphanage and it was their way of giving back.

Len also explained that it takes $50,000 a month to keep the orphanage functioning.

"Now you know why we're out all the time," he said with his deep laugh. "Most of the time, I'd rather be in Haiti. The kids are amazing."

It's one thing to open an orphanage, and quite another to keep it going. For Len, it meant giving up a lucrative career as a home builder and shifting all of his considerable energy to Haiti. The couple sold their vacation home in New Hampshire; Len likes to joke that he built his wife a 19,000-square-foot home in the Caribbean. Neither Len nor Cherylann take a salary.

"I'm not building anymore because this is a full-time job," he said. "Well, I'll always be a builder. I just switched countries."

Each Monday morning, Len and Cherylann sit down at their kitchen table and review a schedule that would exhaust the hardiest of souls. They meet with accountants and office managers. They Skype workers in Haiti. They travel up and down the East coast to speak to groups and potential donors, to accept checks for the orphanage, to sign copies of their book.

"If people want us, we'll go," Cherylann said. "We're just so thankful people want to help. We can never close the doors and put these kids back out there. It breaks my heart just to think of it."

But their favorite place is Haiti, where they walk through the doors of the orphanage and are greeted by a swarm of excited kids yelling, "Papi Len! Mami Len!" They spend one to two weeks a month there, sleeping in a 200-square-foot studio on the grounds.

And they hear the stories that fuel their efforts.

Adrieline, 8, was malnourished and covered with a fungal infection when she was brought to Be Like Brit. Six months later, she stared at her glowing complexion in a mirror.

"I'm pretty!" she marveled "I'm pretty!"

Such stories are legion, and forever lodged in their hearts.

"It's not just about helping kids," Len said simply. "It's about saving kids."